


the month of may

by darkofthenights



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Non-Famous, Banter, Domestic Fluff, Drabble, Established Relationship, Father-Daughter Relationship, Fluff, M/M, New Family, One Shot, Pillow Talk, Slow Dancing, honestly this is just pure sap idk what else to tell ya, petnames
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-18
Updated: 2020-05-18
Packaged: 2021-03-02 23:55:21
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,359
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24255472
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/darkofthenights/pseuds/darkofthenights
Summary: They fall quiet again, silently reflecting on their life before. How painfully happy they’ve been for years and how that feeling has amplified to a degree neither of them have managed to make sense of yet. How there was always so,somuch more of it awaiting them. It almost doesn’t feel human.orAn evening at home with the Tomlinson-Styles’.
Relationships: Harry Styles/Louis Tomlinson
Comments: 52
Kudos: 310





	the month of may

**Author's Note:**

> I hope this rots your teeth, honestly. Enjoy!
> 
>  **Disclaimer:** This fic emphasizes the common practice of co-sleeping, which I am very aware is a controversial topic with a lot of varying opinions. I acknowledge and respect the decision some parents make to avoid it, however, I ask that you always keep in mind that this is fictional and the characters in this story made a conscious decision to do it and are safe and responsible about it. I do not intend to disrespect any parents who are against it. Please refrain from making any negative comments about it if you can. Thank you.
> 
> Title from “My Girl” by The Temptations.

It’s pouring rain out. 

The neighborhood street lights are flickering on earlier than usual to combat the dark grey cast hanging over the city and there’s a dampness clinging to the ends of Harry’s unwashed hair when he arrives home.

He prays there isn’t a thunderstorm during the night. He’s not sure the noise would do them any favors.

With one final heavy sigh, Harry sets down the last grocery bag atop the kitchen counter. He gives in to the exhaustion that’s been looming over him lately, but only for a moment, gripping the edge of the granite and hanging his head. He then peels off his jacket and lazily kicks his shoes off near the door, noting how quiet the flat is. 

He’d only been gone for a little over an hour stocking up on groceries after witnessing Louis stare into the fridge for several long minutes that morning before closing it without a word, empty handed. Halfway through the day, Harry offered to run to the shops for the first time in nearly three weeks. It’s inching closer to dinner time now and the flat is not at all how he’d left it. The living room TV is off, the lights are dimmed to the lowest setting, Louis is nowhere to be seen, and it’s very quiet apart from the occasional gust of rain tapping harshly against the windows.

Harry’s not worried. He figures he knows exactly where his husband is, but before he goes to investigate, he quickly goes about putting the groceries away. Louis deserves the few precious moments of rest and Harry doesn’t mind doing it alone. Surprisingly, he marvels in the silence of the kitchen as he quietly moves around the space, emptying the bags and carefully putting things away in their respective places within the pantry and fridge. He’s always been particularly organized about that sort of thing even though he knows it’ll only be a couple days before he and Louis have both shuffled it all around. Despite that, he takes his time.

When he’s finished, Harry pushes his fingers through his unforgiving curls and makes his way down the dark hallway to the bedroom. The door is slightly ajar and inviting, but even though it’s his room too, Harry still hesitates right outside. He carefully pushes the door open and what he sees nearly makes his knees give out. He shuffles closer to his side of the bed to get a better look.

Louis is dozing on his pillow, curled up on his left side on top of the covers of their made bed as if he only intended to lay down for a few minutes while he waited for Harry to return. His hair is soft and messily swept across his forehead and Harry doesn’t think he’s ever been so pleased to hear the sound of his husband’s light snoring. It’s been a while since he’s slept this well.

At the very edge of the bed next to him, Harry sees her.

Their Hazel.

Their five-week-old daughter.

She’s sleeping soundly on her back in the three-sided bassinet pressed flush up against the side of their bed with her tiny arms raised near her head. Her soft blue onesie, with a baby chick hatching from an egg printed on it, stretches across her little body and Harry so desperately wants to reach out and hold her against his chest, but he doesn’t have the heart to disturb this—his husband and their perfect baby napping side by side, Louis turned to face her as if they’d fallen asleep looking at each other. 

A lump forms in the back of Harry’s throat. He doesn’t think his heart has skipped this much since the night they got the phone call from their surrogate’s sister to tell them, _"It's time, guys. Come on over to the hospital. She’ll be here soon.”_

They’ve been fumbling through the days and nights ever since, adjusting to their brand new life as a family. It’s been going smoothly so far, but then again, Hazel’s only a month old and there’s still plenty of time for things to get overwhelming. Louis proudly boasts that they’re crushing it though and Harry is inclined to agree. They’re the best team and Hazel is the easiest baby. They’ve got this. 

As quietly as he can, Harry immediately reaches for the camera on his nightstand. He’s been keeping it nearby at all times for obvious reasons, eager to document as much of this experience as possible. He lifts the camera up to his face and lines up a perfect shot. Squinting his eye through the viewfinder, he kneels down a bit and twists the focus ring on the lens until his image is exactly how he wants it. He presses down on the shutter, the soft click sounding louder than it really is in the air of such a peaceful moment.

The shadows in the image are bold in the dim of the room. The black and white pre-setting makes the contrasts pop on the small digital screen playing back the photo of Louis’ serene sleeping face, Hazel’s in the foreground. Harry chews his lip as he lifts the camera one more time and tries one more angle, tightening the crop on his husband’s hand gently laying next to their daughter’s impossibly small one, the seam of their respective mattresses the only thing dividing them. She must have fallen asleep holding his finger. It’s just too perfect. Harry releases the shutter and this time, the sound makes Louis stir.

Louis inhales through his nose before his eyes peel open heavily, immediately landing on Harry hovering beside the bed with the camera gripped in his hands. A pitying grin crosses his features, unfazed and used to the extra attention at this point. 

“Hey,” he says quietly, sounding raspy from sleep. “You’re back.”

Harry nods dumbly, voice tight and almost breathless when he replies to the greeting with literally the only thing coming to mind right now. 

“I love you guys so much.”

Louis huffs humorously at the mild outburst. He’s been so patient whenever Harry is overcome with emotion. He rarely has to ask, he can just read it all over Harry’s face. They both glance at the still sleeping baby between them. She’s perfectly content and completely unaware of just how much she’s making Harry’s chest ache in a way he didn’t know was physically possible.

“I know you do,” Louis chuckles sleepily, his eyes falling shut again. He rolls onto his back into the middle of the bed and gently taps the edge where he’d just been laying, making room for Harry to slip in. “Lay down with us.”

_Us._

There is something so indescribably heavy about the word “us” now that doesn’t just apply to them as a couple anymore to the outside world. And inside these walls, Harry doesn’t have just a partner referring to himself as _me me me_ , he has an extra heart to take care of now. Two loves of his life. An “us” that only belongs to him. His Louis and Hazel. He doubts he’ll ever get tired of hearing Louis refer to himself and their daughter as a unit and that fact alone makes Harry spring into action. 

He tentatively lowers himself onto the bed, eager as ever to be closer, but careful not to rouse the baby. He sets the camera down on the mattress out of the way as he stretches out onto his left side, taking Louis’ place at the edge of the bed between them. Louis snugly fits himself behind him, snaking an arm over his hip. Harry rests his right hand on top of Louis’ and laces their fingers over his stomach.

When he’s comfortable, Harry then reaches out with the index finger of his left hand to see if Hazel’s reflexes will register that he’s there when he tucks it into the open palm of her hand. He grins when her tiny fingers immediately wrap around it and squeeze. 

“She fell asleep after I fed her,” Louis says, keeping his voice low. Harry notes the empty bottle on the nightstand. “I must have passed out right after. How long have you been home?”

“Fifteen minutes or so. I bought more formula.”

Louis hums appreciatively. “Oh, good. We were running low and I forgot to put it on the list. I was gonna text you, but—“

“It’s okay,” Harry whispers. “I remembered.”

Louis just sighs, squeezing Harry’s hand in a silent thank you and pressing a kiss to the back of his head. He keeps his nose buried in Harry’s hair that he’s sure probably smells like rain. There’s another beat of comfortable, hazy quietness accompanied by raindrops hitting the glass. It’ll soon be dark enough outside that they’ll probably need to turn a lamp on and neither of them really wanna do that yet. They’re enjoying this too much to interrupt it with something as harsh as a light. 

Harry and Louis’ breathing sync up naturally as they alternate between resting their eyes, molding themselves closer to each other, and staring at their slumbering daughter. 

“Have you ever seen anything so beautiful in your life?” 

Louis’ question is soft, reverent. Practically a whisper that spreads warmth over Harry’s neck. Harry’s eyes flit over Hazel’s face, trailing his gaze from the way her lips are pursed below her cupid’s bow to the shape of her delicate nose.

He shakes his head. “I thought I knew what that word meant. I thought I’d learned all there is to know about what beauty is and what it means to love someone after we met and started dating, but it’s like nothing could have ever prepared me for this. Not even you. And that’s...insane to me. It’s suffocating.” He sighs, then adds, “It’s everything.”

“Yeah,” Louis murmurs. “I feel the same way too.”

They fall quiet again, silently reflecting on their life before. How painfully happy they’ve been for years and how that feeling has amplified to a degree neither of them have managed to make sense of yet. How there was always so, _so_ much more of it awaiting them. It almost doesn’t feel human.

“Can we just stay like this?” Harry wonders after a few minutes, his voice soft. He retracts his finger from Hazel’s grip to prop himself up on his elbow, resting his head in his hand and gazing at her adoringly. “Does she have to get big? I think she should always be this size.”

Louis smiles against the back of Harry’s shoulder. “I wouldn’t mind that either, I suppose. She’s so fucking cute. But think about all the exciting events we’d miss out on. The princess obsession in her toddler years, the sleepovers we’ll surely be hosting to her hundreds of friends, the puberty, the dating—“

" _Stoooop_ ,” Harry groans, acting put out by the mere thought and biting back a laugh. He knows they’ll happily climb those mountains when they get there, but for now he just wants to relish in every second that Hazel is this small and uncomplicated. “I rest my case. She’s not allowed to grow up from now on.”

“Can’t be helped. We’ll just have to have more, won’t we?”

Even without facing him, Harry bites his lip and tries not to let it show on his face how much the idea of having more babies with Louis in the future excites him, but he fails, dimpling so wide it makes Louis move their hands up from his stomach to poke Harry’s cheek, their fingers still tangled together.

“What’s that face for, hm?” he muses.

Harry drops his elbow and leans back a bit, his shoulder colliding with Louis’ chest as he cranes his neck to the side so he can finally look at him. Louis has raised his head now as well, matching his previous position with his head propped on his fist.

“I’m just...I’m so happy,” Harry gushes, unabashedly. “Like, I’m so excited to do this. To raise her and teach her everything and watch her become whoever she wants to be.” He pauses, chewing the inside of his cheek before he continues, meeting Louis’ eyes. “To watch you be an amazing dad. I wouldn’t want to do this with anyone else but you.”

“Babe,” Louis breathes, his eyebrows furrowing like they always do when he’s touched by something Harry says. He untangles their fingers to cup the side of Harry’s face instead, thumbing across the stubble on his skin. “You’re gonna be an incredible father too. You already _are_. Watching you since we brought her home has been...” he trails off, shaking his head like he can’t put it into words. “I’m so proud of you.” 

Harry’s eyes are misty when he leans his face up an inch into Louis’ touch to press their foreheads together. His chest tightens hearing Louis say that. “Yeah?” 

Louis nods. “So much.”

“I’m scared shitless.”

“God, me too.”

“I feel like I have no idea what I’m doing.”

“I’m as lost as you are.”

They each let out an exasperated laugh at the admissions they’ve been too nervous to say up until now. This isn’t the first time they’ve had a conversation like this. They’ve spent the last month pouring out words of encouragement, compliments, or expressing the frustrations of potentially fucking up. There have been a few tears as well on both ends. But this is the first time Harry doesn’t feel overwhelmed with anxiety by it all, and if admitting it out loud is the first step to conquering it, then he’s gonna make sure he’s as open as possible from now on. 

Louis’ thumb frames the edge of Harry’s jaw before he leans in to close the gap between their mouths. Their lips meet easily, warm and chaste.

“We’ll be alright,” Harry promises against Louis’ mouth. He stays there, bringing one hand up to the side of Louis’ neck, closing his lips over his husband’s once more. 

Louis hums into the kiss, inhaling deeply through his nose. He’s always been such a responsive kisser and it’s one of the many things Harry loves so much about him. How he can make something as simple as a hello kiss feel so thorough and fulfilling, almost never the one to break away first. 

It’s why they briefly get lost in it, pressing slow kisses to each other’s lips until they’re pulled out of it by the barest sound of a hiccup. Harry peels his lips away from Louis’ with a soft smack and turns his face back to the bassinet beside him. Hazel is awake, wiggling away and staring at them intently, clearly having just woken up to see her parents sharing such an innocent, but intimate moment. 

“Well, hello, my little one,” Harry greets her lovingly, a wide smile spreading across his face. He swears despite looking at her all day, every day, he never gets tired of seeing her green eyes blinking back at him. “Did you have a good nap?”

Her legs kick the air aimlessly as she works her muscles and jerkily stretches her limbs out. Her eyes droop closed again, but she fights hard to keep them open. She yawns, which sends Louis into a frenzy every time she does it because it’s just so sickeningly adorable. Louis releases his hold on Harry just in time for her to let out the hint of a cry. Hazel hiccups again, then whines, her face scrunching up uncomfortably.

Harry sits up on the bed, swinging one leg off the edge. “Shhh. I know, baby,” he coos, indulging her fussiness and tucking his hands under her to lift her up. 

While he does that, Louis sits up and swiftly adjusts a few pillows against the headboard behind Harry so he can prop himself upright. They’ve gotten into the groove of knowing exactly what the other one needs without being asked, which has helped immensely. 

Everything is second nature to them now—passing a clean nappy over from the shelf, grabbing a rag to clean spit-up or dribble off the shoulder of a t-shirt, bracing a hand on the small of the other’s back while one of them lugs the carseat out from the back of the car without losing their balance.

Hazel feels weightless in Harry’s hands as he brings her up to his chest, shushing her quietly and pressing his nose into the soft tuft of thin hair on her head to get a whiff of her scent that he adores much. He situates back against the pillows, careful not to jostle her too much since she ate a short while ago. He bends his legs and plants his feet flat on the bed to position her comfortably in his lap, using the top of his thighs to support her head. That way she’s partially sitting up and can see her surroundings as her eyes readjust to the room. His quick thinking is what ultimately saves them from the meltdown she was amping up for as she settles down again.

“That’s better,” he tells her, wrapping his hands around her cotton-covered feet. He claps them together playfully, giving a faux gasp and smiling down at her. “Oh my goodness. You look positively ravishing today, Miss Hazel.”

Louis clicks on the lamp on his side of the bed. The sudden burst of light makes Hazel’s eyes widen and flit around wildly, looking for something to focus her sights on as she becomes more alert. Harry laughs lightly and watches as Louis moves to sit cross legged next to them in the middle of the bed. 

“Say _'Thank you, Daddy, I can see much better now!’_ ” Harry teases, knowing the sound of his voice distracts and soothes her until she inevitably gets restless again. 

“How long again before she starts reacting to her own name?” Louis asks. 

“Not for like, six or seven more months,” Harry says. 

She’s been great at responding to their voices, but not so much at her specific attention being called. She won’t develop that skill for a while, so they often spend hours talking nonsense to her and having full one-sided conversations to familiarize her with each of their individual tones. They both realized early on that she recognized their voices almost immediately after she was born since they spent so much time with their surrogate over the last nine months, having long talks and a lot of laughs. 

They spend a while talking to her while Harry plays with her feet and mimics the gurgling noises she emits in response. At one point, Louis leans over the top of Harry’s knee and plants a loud, wet kiss on Hazel’s forehead that startles her so much, they both burst into giggles. She merely cranes her neck back and blinks up at Louis like she’s fascinated to see him at that angle.

Harry watches as Louis lightly trails the tip of his finger over her lips, mapping out their shape. All she does to that is to open her mouth and slobbers on him, probably confusing it for a bottle. He laughs and pulls his hand away. 

“I’m not food, silly,” Louis says.

Harry grins, brushing his hand over her hair. “Speaking of food, what do you feel like for dinner?”

“Whatever you feel like making me,” Louis replies cheekily without missing a beat.

Harry snorts and nudges Louis’ foot with his own, giving him a playful kick. Louis cooked dinner last night, so he doesn’t argue. He starts rattling off ideas, swaying his knees from side to side, gently rocking Hazel. “I bought stuff to make spaghetti. Or burgers. Or chicken. Or—“

Louis perks up suddenly. “Grilled lemon pepper chicken?”

It’s a favorite dish in Harry’s family and one of the first things he ever cooked for Louis when they got together years ago, which he’d raved about for weeks afterwards, so Harry isn’t surprised by his husband’s excitement. He’s made it for him literally hundreds of times since then and he still loves it.

“Yes, darling,” Harry drawls, pretending to sound bored, but really just basking in how delighted Louis looks. “I can make grilled lemon pepper chicken.”

Louis pumps a fist in the air. “Potatoes, too?”

“With potatoes too,” Harry confirms.

Louis lets out a whoop, slapping his palms flat down on the bed for no apparent reason other than to express his enthusiasm. Harry rolls his eyes and laughs, biting his lip as Louis grabs the forgotten camera laying on the bed. 

“Smile, you two,” he announces, bringing the camera up to his face.

“Hang on, hang on...”

Harry wraps his hands around Hazel’s sides and lifts her up again, easily bringing her up to his chest. He starts maneuvering her a bit so she’s half facing where the lens is, but Louis is already snapping photos one after the other.

“We’re not ready, babe!” he complains with a frown.

“Don’t care,” Louis says, adjusting the focus and taking another burst of photos. “This is my favorite version of you.”

“What,” Harry scoffs, “me struggling to support our baby’s big head while you laugh at me from behind the camera and shoot loads of unflattering angles?”

“Yes. And don’t call her head big. You have matching double chins.”

Harry gives him a dark look. Louis snaps another photo. Harry is going to burn his chicken. “Thanks,” he says dryly.

Hazel lets out an uncomfortable whine and Harry quickly raises her up so her legs are dangling below her, turning her and readily posing for the camera this time. Louis is ready for it, snapping away as soon as Harry presses his lips to Hazel’s soft, round cheek.

It’s obnoxious and over-the-top the way he strings tiny, repetitive kisses to her little face, the skin squished against his mouth, but never let anyone say Harry hasn’t planned on being as annoying as he can until she eventually tells him to stop embarrassing her one day. 

“Alright, alright. Enough paparazzi,” he finally says, supporting Hazel under her bum and cradling the back of her head as he shifts to climb off the bed. “Let’s go make dinner, little one.”

“I’m gonna jump in the shower for a few,” Louis says, setting the camera back on the nightstand. 

“Good. You need one.” Harry smirks, standing up to full height and beginning to make his way out of the bedroom. 

Louis laughs and smacks Harry’s arse in retaliation for the comment just before he’s out of reach. Harry snickers all the way down the hall. He never gets tired of their ability to gently rib each other, their banter one of the easiest and most fun parts of their marriage. Harry can’t imagine being as comfortable as he is with Louis with anyone else.

Before he does anything, Harry stops off to the nursery to get Hazel changed. There’s a proper crib in the corner, but she’s only spent a few full nights in it. Harry’s still in the co-sleeping stage where he likes her to be close to them, hence the bedside bassinet in their room. He knows they’ll have to get into the habit of letting her sleep in her own room soon, but for now, he’s clinging to their current arrangement, and he suspects Louis is too because he has yet to object to it.

He makes quick work of replacing her nappy with a dry one on the changing table, happily telling her how proud he is that she doesn’t cry while he does it, and expertly gets a clean onesie with tiny sunflowers printed all over it buttoned up in no time. He briefly gets distracted tapping his finger gently on her nose and making a bunch of silly booping sounds before eventually scooping her back up and leaving the room.

He carries her into the kitchen and gets her strapped into her rocker that he positions in a safe spot on the floor where she can watch him prepare dinner and also where he can keep an eye on her. By this point, he can faintly hear the shower running. 

He preheats the oven and plugs his phone into the dock on the counter and pulls up their carefully curated Spotify playlist simply titled “Hazel” full of calming songs and other various tunes that they feel embody their love of fatherhood. It’s cheesy, but Harry adds at least four new songs to it every week. He shuffles the songs and lets it start playing at a decent volume, but not too loud as to disturb Hazel’s ears. He loves how responsive she is when there’s music playing. 

Harry thoroughly washes his hands and gets to work pulling the ingredients he needs out of the fridge, moving around the kitchen without thinking and humming along to the music, dropping Hazel a compliment or a question she can’t answer every once in a while. At one point he asks her if she thinks the potato wedges he chops up are too big. Just to let her know he’s including her. She sneezes in reply. He nods in agreement and cuts them all in half.

In no time, he’s got two boneless chicken breasts generously coated in lemon pepper seasoning and other secret spices grilling on the stovetop and a sheet of potatoes (with some asparagus tossed onto the pan as well) roasting in the oven. 

The chicken takes some time to cook, so he turns to the sink and washes his hands a second time. Just as he finishes drying them, the opening guitar notes of “[My Girl](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=qEztui18cA8)” by The Temptations begin filtering out of the speakers.

He smiles and turns to Hazel’s rocker, snapping his fingers goofily and slow-stepping up to it, putting on a show that he knows probably looks ridiculous, but she’s a baby, so who cares.

 _I’ve got sunshine on a cloudy day  
_ _When it’s cold outside, I’ve got the month of May_

“That’s you!” Harry tells her excitedly, swaying his hips languidly on the spot and continuing to sing along with exaggerated passion, using a pair of tongs as a microphone.

 _Well, I guess you’d say  
_ _What can make me feel this way?  
_ _My girl (my girl, my girl)  
_ _Talkin’ ‘bout my girl_

Harry gives a clumsy twirl in tune to the emphasized “my girl” that follows the previous line and gestures grandly towards Hazel in her rocker. She kicks her legs excitedly as she gurgles up at him.

He can’t resist her. He drops the tongs onto the counter and reaches down to unbuckle her, lifting her up and cradling the back of her head. He holds her close to his chest and sways along to the song, singing the words to her quietly. He spins them slowly, round and round the kitchen tiles to the next chorus. 

_I don't need no money, fortune, or fame  
_ _I've got all the riches, baby, one man can claim_

He becomes so lost in their little dance that he doesn’t notice Louis leaning against the entrance of the kitchen, watching them. Not until he shuffles further in, the appetizing scent of sizzling chicken wafting through the room, does Harry realize he’s been discovered. He feels eyes on him and he glances up just as Louis inches closer to them, his movements slowing.

“Don’t stop on my account.” Louis smiles. His hair is damp and he’s dressed in fresh joggers and a black crewneck, smelling like soap and aftershave. He slides up beside Harry and wraps his arms around his waist. He drops a kiss to Hazel’s head. His eyes crinkle when he says, “Looks like you’ve stolen my dance partner, Missy. Your papa’s making me jealous.”

Harry shakes his head and grins. “Could never replace you, darling. I’ve got a lifetime worth of kitchen floor dances saved up for you.” He tucks his chin down to see Hazel craning her neck up to look at them. “We’re just havin’ a little waltz.”

They both spend the rest of the song’s soulful crooning and orchestral music interlude holding each other, Harry’s right arm wrapped around Louis’ shoulders and their baby tucked between them in his left while they move to the music, slow dancing to the classic Motown hit and sharing soft pecks that they know Hazel can see. The knowledge that she’ll never grow up unsure about her parent’s love for each other is something that comforts Harry immensely. He closes his eyes and tightens his arm around Louis even more, knowing he’ll remember this moment and how elated he feels from the inside out for the rest of forever.

When the song starts to fade to an end, Louis holds his hands out, wordlessly offering to take her from Harry’s arms so he can turn his attention back to cooking. Harry passes her over easily and goes back to work, picking up the pair of tongs again and flipping the chicken over, silently congratulating himself on the perfectly even grill marks on either side and the fact that they didn’t burn.

“It smells yummy in here,” Louis groans as he settles Hazel back into her rocker and moves it closer to the dinner table in the corner. 

Harry cracks the oven door open to check on the potatoes sizzling inside. “It’ll be done in about five more minutes,” he declares before shutting it again. “You wanna set the table, babe, while I make a salad? There’s a new bottle of wine in the pantry, too, if you want.”

Louis obliges and hurries to collect plates and silverware, orbiting around Harry while he dishes up the chicken and squeezes fresh lemon juice over the serving platter. It’s mundane, their dinner routine, but it’s theirs and it’s easy and it’s all the right levels of domestic that Harry always dreamt about when he was younger and fantasized about having a partner and a family to take care of one day. 

Luckily, he married someone with all the same desires. Someone with a big family who is no stranger to babies, elaborate or simple dinners, or to always agreeing to meet the person you love halfway in everything you do.

Louis goes over to the wall and brightens the flat’s lights now that it’s fully dark outside—the only light Harry had been using were the small fixtures hanging over the kitchen island. 

Harry slips an oven mitt on and extracts the potatoes from the oven while Louis gets the wine poured and their plates loaded with salad and a spoonful of wedges and a pile of asparagus on the side. Harry transfers their chicken to each of their plates and they both move in unison to sit down.

“Thank you, sweetheart. Everything looks great,” Louis says before he’s even scooted his chair in. 

Harry moves to sit down, then catches himself. “Oh, wait. You want ranch, don’t you?” 

“I got it out already,” Louis replies patiently, gesturing to the bottles of various dressings in the middle of the table that Harry hadn’t noticed him retrieve from the fridge.

Harry hums and finally sits down across from him. They eat as they listen to the playlist drown out the drizzling outside, occasionally nodding along to certain songs and turning to sing lyrics to Hazel in her rocker beside the table, and engage in mindless conversation and inside jokes between bites of food.

After they’ve finished eating, Louis collects their dirty plates to take them to the sink to rinse them and deposit them into the dishwasher along with the utensils, but not before leaning down to kiss Harry’s forehead in appreciation for such a good dinner.

“You’re welcome, hun,” Harry says, patting Louis’ hip.

Louis turns the sink on and squirts soap onto a plate. “What do you say, do you think Hazel should sleep in the nursery tonight?”

Harry casts a look over to her and purses his lips in thought. “Yeah, I guess we can try that. She’s been sleeping through the night pretty well.”

“Okay, cool,” Louis nods. “I’m also feeling pretty well rested, you know.”

Harry hums and turns to look at him again, raising an eyebrow, totally oblivious to what Louis is implying without so many words.

“I was thinking I could thank you properly.”

“For what?” Harry blinks. 

Louis shrugs nonchalantly, passing a dish over to the bottom rack inside the dishwasher. “Dinner. Going shopping today. Being you.” He drops the last fork into the washer and lets it snap shut, turning the sink off. “I feel like spoiling you later. How’s that sound?”

Harry catches the flicker of heat in Louis’ eyes and his lips slip apart in understanding, his face heating and his stomach flipping. He mentally counts back the amount of days it’s been since they weren’t too exhausted or busy to have sex uninterrupted by a crying infant down the hall or an unbalanced sleep schedule.

Eight. Eight long days. 

“Oh. _Ohhh._ Okay. Yeah. Sure, that sounds...that sounds fucking great, actually. Yes. Yes, please.”

Louis smiles and dries his hands on a towel. “Later,” he promises one more time with a wink.

Harry bites down on a smile and looks down at the chipped nail polish on his hands before picking up his wine glass and knocking the rest of it back in one gulp.

“You’re dribbling all over the place, Haz.”

Harry quickly snaps his gaze up at Louis and wipes his chin with the back of his hand to catch any wine that may have dripped. He furrows his eyebrows. “No, I’m not.”

Louis’ knowing eyes glisten with mirth. He always gets such a damn kick out of flustering Harry. 

“I was talking to her,” he corrects, pointing to Hazel in her rocker. He undoes the buckle across her front and picks her up, swiping the drool off her chin with a clean rag. 

Harry lets out a groan and rolls his eyes, running one hand through his hair. He could use a shower tonight too. 

“That’s so unfair,” he complains, always falling for that trick. “Why can’t you call her Haze or something, I don’t know, else?” He pouts. “That’s always been your nickname for _me_.”

Louis snorts, smiling wide and tucking the baby into the crook of his arm. “You should have thought of that before you insisted on her name. Besides, I love having two Haz’s! I get to have _double_ the Haz! And it’s fun watching you pout about it. Suck it up, baby.” 

He has a point. When Harry had suggested the name Hazel, he’d failed to consider the confusion he’d be subjecting himself to for the rest of his life whenever Louis used the beloved nickname. Harry sticks his tongue out at him and stands up from the table to warm up one last bottle of formula for Hazel before they put her down for the night. 

“If you say so,” he says. He addresses his daughter next. “Hazel Anne, your father is going to be a pain in our arses for as long as we live and it’s partially my fault. Sorry.”

Louis throws his head back and cackles as he turns to leave the kitchen. “Yeah, he’s almost as sorry as he is for giving you a name with initials that spell out the word ‘HATS’. Honestly, leave it to Harry Styles to keep the pun names a running theme within the family.”

“Go find us a movie on TV, yeah?” Harry calls after him, pointedly deciding to ignore that particular comment. Still, he dimples as he watches Louis saunter away with their child. He murmurs under his breath to himself, “That’s Tomlinson-Styles to you, sir, and it was an _accident_.”

The rest of their night is spent in the living room. Harry is spread out on the couch after having taken a long shower with his feet propped in Louis’ lap. Louis is sat at the end of the couch, still holding Hazel in the crook of his arm, supporting her head, and holding the bottle for her as she happily feeds from it. 

Harry plays a round of Wordscapes on his phone, replies to some texts from his mum checking in on them, and scrolls Instagram for a while. The telly displays an old silent movie starring Buster Keaton from the 1920s on TCM and Louis seems very invested in it, as he usually is when he watches this particular network. The music in the film serves as a soundtrack that makes Hazel’s eyelids droop.

The sight of Louis so quiet and relaxed with his daughter in his arms makes Harry grin while he thumbs open the Instagram story camera. He discreetly aims it down the couch at Louis, his profile sharp and defined, Hazel tucked against him comfortably. Harry takes the photo and types out a caption across the image. 

**_My favorite view._ **

He adds a string of happy face emojis with hearts hovering around them, swipes a filter over it, and sends it to his story before locking his phone for the night. 

Because it’s true and the view from behind the lens is never as good as the real thing, but it’s pretty damn close.

“Lou.”

Louis keeps his eyes on the telly, but hums at Harry saying his name.

“I love you,” Harry says. Just because he feels like it.

That gets Louis’ attention. He turns his face to Harry and he’s making that face he always does when he’s trying not to smile too wide. He squeezes Harry’s foot affectionately with his free hand. “I love you more, babe.”

They go back to watching the film after that.

There’s a thunderstorm that night, but Hazel miraculously sleeps through it just fine in the nursery.

And Louis makes good on his promise, spending hours mapping out his gratitude against Harry’s skin, and all he can do is grip his husband’s hips for dear life as they move together and be thankful that the extra noise does them the favor of keeping the sounds they make between them and God.

They’ll definitely be alright.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading! Comments are appreciated. A fic post is available to reblog [here](https://jimmytfallon.tumblr.com/post/618483172537237505/).


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